The Firebrand Chronicles: After Dark
by Avian Swallow
Summary: No one knew what awaited them upon returning to Hogwarts that year. No one expected a monster to attack the students, and certainly no one expected anyone to assume that Harry Potter was the party responsible. Blaise Zabini didn't. This is his story. Book Two
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Firebrand Chronicles Book Two: After Dark

**Summary:** No one knew what awaited them upon returning to Hogwarts that year. No one expected a monster to attack the students, and certainly no one expected anyone to assume that Harry Potter was the party responsible. Blaise Zabini certainly didn't. This is his story. Book Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter any of its characters or events. They belong to J.K. Rowling

**Published:**10/6/08 – a chapter will be posted at least every other week

**Author's Note:**It has been several years since I have done any work on this story, and for that I apologize. However, it was never my intention of leaving it alone for so long and I do mean to finish it (write books 3-7 maybe 8) though that may take even more time. I did rewrite "Behind Closed Doors" (editing adding scenes and content, generally fleshing the story out) and while the story remains the same there has been a great deal added to it, so I feel the need to inform those who may wish to reread it.

As always feedback of any nature is appreciated and I hope you all enjoy reading what I have enjoyed writing.

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**Firebrand Chronicles**

**Book Two: After Dark**

**Chapter I**

My name is Blaise Alexander Zabini. I am a wizard. We do still exist, though we keep our nature hidden from any non-magical beings. Fortunately that is not necessary when we're at school. What school you may ask? Well Hogwarts of course. And there is no better place I can think of to learn. Well except one year, my second year to be precise. If you're willing to listen I'll tell you the story.

The summer before my second year of Hogwarts started out perfectly for me. With Millard, my stepfather, away I was allowed to enjoy all of my preferred activities without interference, or the knowledge that I would have to see him later in the day. I went swimming, read to my kid sister Abby, hiked to and from the Parkinson's at my leisure, rode horses with Pansy, and continued my training with Dr. Fitzwilliam Gertz my sword and dueling instructor who, in addition to teaching me to use the wand and sword at that same time, now insisted I learn some acrobatics to improve my flexibility.

"The greater your range of movement, the better the reach of your sword, and when combined with your magical prowess . . ." Dr. Gertz often left the rest of that statement unfinished, but I got the point. My lessons, which I had been taking from a young age, had now been extended by an hour past what they had originally been set at. Fifteen minutes of various stretches; fifteen of jumping, rolling, spinning, and finally dodging the various spells Dr. Gertz flung at me (none of them dangerous); followed by a half hour of wand work; and finally an hour of everything previously mentioned combined with the sword. The good Dr. often stayed afterwards to talk with me for some time, occasionally taking lunch with the family. He had by this time become as much a member of our family as he was of his own. Often our conversations strayed far and away from our lessons, to politics, to my tenants (for three new families had moved into houses my father had long ago set up as rentals in the village), to our daily lives. Dr. Gertz was extremely pleased to inform me one afternoon that his Granddaughter Louisa had recently become engaged. A man prouder of his family I have yet to meet. For a short time, my family was at peace.

For three weeks I had days on end of pure bliss. Unfortunately Millard's return loomed constantly in the future, and when he returned he brought company, though the company he brought was not nearly as unwelcome as the man himself.

I had been out riding with Pansy, she on a white mare named snowflake golden blond hair streaming in the wind, myself on a buckskin named Dasher, when she spotted several figures by our front gate. "Blaise look there!" she called waving a hand in the direction of the two gentlemen who had just apparated onto the pathway outside the fence, the manor itself was covered in ani-apparation charms, and a shorter figure who had obviously been brought side-along. "Who do you think it could be?"

"Millard of course," I answered spotting the telltale red hair, "Come on, I'll race you!" and I heeled Dasher around and into a full gallop.

"Blaise!" she called attempting to gallop Snowflake after me, "Blaise wait . . . It's not a race if you've got a head start!" I could hear her catching up, Snowflake's hooves thundering across the field, but by that time Dasher had reached the fence that blocked the grass from the drive and I steeled myself for the jump, leaning with his body as Dasher made the leap from one side to the other without a hitch, before wheeling him around to face the visitors and dismounting in one fluid motion. For the first time I took a good look at those Millard had brought with him, relieved to find that I had a least one ally in the group, though he was the least important. Draco Malfoy stood beside his father smirking in his usual way. Behind me Snowflake's hoof beats came to a stop and there was a muffled grunt and a squeak as Pansy dismounted and opened the gate to lead the horse around.

"Zabini," Draco spoke before I even had a chance to open my mouth for a greeting. "I thought you didn't like to ride." For a moment his face perfectly mirrored his father's from the platinum hair and ice cold eyes, the way his smile crooked one corner of his mouth.

"Horses are completely different then brooms," I answered stepping forwards to shake his hand and offer the proper bow to Mr. Malfoy, "For one thing you can't fall as far."

"And we all know how Blaise fears to fall," came Pansy's giggling input. I turned to find that Charles had arrived and taken Snowflake's reigns from her as well as collected Dasher, and was now leading both back to the stables. A good man my groundskeeper.

Mr. Malfoy nodded his head in return to my bow and then leisurely followed Millard's thin frame up the drive, the torment of my existence chatting animatedly about how Lucius's influence was sure to help push the new flew regulations past the committee for transportation regulation. His curly red hair blew slightly in the wind as he tilted his head down to speak, being the taller of the two men.

"How about you, Pansy?" Draco asked offering her his arm, which she took wearing her brightest smile, "which do you prefer? Broom or horse?"

"Oh I don't know Draco!" she batted her eyelashes," it depends on the company I suppose." About that time the two adults stopped in their stroll up the walk and turned to face us.

"Blaise!" Millard called and I winced, reminding myself that it was for Abby's sake I tolerated his existence, the poor child believed him to be her father. "Blaise what has been placed on the lunch menu today?" his tone was polite due to the present company and I tried to answer civilly for the same reason.

"I supposed it depends on whether or not Abby got to Bert before anyone else could voice a request."

"And if she did?" Mr. Malfoy asked amusement tinting his voice.

"Then we'll be having peanut butter sandwiches with bananas and milk." I answered leading the way to the front hall door, "That is of course, unless you would care to wait for something else. Bert will prepare food more to your taste upon request." Millard suppressed a snort. Bert seldom did anything the man required.

"Bert is your cook?" came the inquisitive reply.

"Oh no, Lucius, Bert is the boy's house elf. Vitoria won't employ a new cook. Hasn't employed anyone new in the house since the boy's father died. Superstitious I think. Still, the elf does well enough."

True there were only three human employees in the house at the time. Janice, of course. The elderly witch had once been my nurse, now she was Abbey's in addition to housekeeper. Of course due to her advanced age most of the housekeeping fell to Bert, not that he minded. In addition to Janice was Charles, groundskeeper and groom (though he had help now and again from a Muggle boy in town), and Dr. Gertz my sword and dueling instructor. Millard had in fact lied to Mr. Malfoy when he claimed no one new had been employed since death of my father, Saxton Zabini. Dr. Gertz, though a dear friend and long employed had only been with my family since my seventh birthday.

Fortunately Abby hadn't reached Bert to request lunch first, Mother had. She had seen the party from an upstairs window and taken care of the matter immediately. The meal turned out to consist of soup and garden salads with fresh baked bread. The elf himself served the meal bowing respectfully to all present, (somehow forgetting Millard altogether while appearing to be busily serving Mr. Malfoy who sat in the place of honor) and muttered to me quietly, "Bert does hope this is suitable, sir. Bert did not know what Master desired and time was short. Bert does have wonderful roast in the oven if Master's guest wish to stay for dinner."

"Yes thank you Bert." I managed when he let me slip a word in. "You've done very well, you may be dismissed." Mr. Malfoy gave me a strange look as Bert bowed out of the room. Draco, Ignoring my kindness to my apparent inferior (I say apparent because personally I regard house elves in general very highly. They are among the most loyal beings I have ever met,) changed the topic to Quidditch which the two of us discussed at length ignoring Pansy's continual rolling of her eyes. It seemed that with the graduation of Terence Higgs the spot of seeker had opened up on the house team, and Draco had been practicing almost nonstop since school let up, in hopes of securing the position for himself.

"The only problem is," he confided between bites of salad, "I don't always have someone handy to throw things for me. Crabbe and Goyle can't manage a broom well enough to present a challenge, father has so little leisure time to spend that I hate to ask him to waste it on me, and Mother dislikes the game altogether. Zabini, perhaps you might manage . . ."

"You had best ask Pansy if you want help, Draco," I answered before he could petition further. "She's better than I am on a broom. I will, however, be perfectly happy to watch from the ground and offer any advice I think necessary."

"Yes the grounds are quite extensive," Millard's voice rose in excitement completely overwhelming our conversation, "and that's not even including the portion of property currently containing rentals. I was planning on parceling them up. Sell some, rent the others. Muggle's pay anything you know."

"You'll do no such thing!" I snapped cutting him off.

"Excuse me, dear boy, I think you have forgotten who is master of this house!"

"OH?" I stood from my seat placing my hands flat upon the table and leaned forwards to look him directly in the eye. Millard stiffened in his seat as if he desired to rise as well in order to tower over me. "Shall I summon Bert and you can discover what his answer is?"

Millard's face drained of blood before turning a brilliant shade of purple in anger he dared not act upon with company present. Mother arched an eyebrow at me over her teacup but said nothing. Mr. Malfoy's look was appraising. Pansy only rolled her eyes, she'd seen it all before, but Draco grinned. Before he could say anything, however, his father spoke.

"Vitoria, pardon me if I am in error," Mr. Malfoy started folding his fingertips together, "But I was under the impression that the late Saxton left you everything when he died."

"He left me the current bank account and the family gems. The lands, the house, and the elf with them, were willed to Blaise, though his Grandfather acts as steward until his seventeenth birthday. I believe he wanted the property to remain in his family line, though if my son never marries that line will be dead anyway."

"It is an instinct of us all I suppose," Mr. Malfoy leaned back in his chair completely relaxed, "to want to preserve our way of life."

"So it is." Mother nodded. Millard only grunted in reply.

The morning following this confrontation I awake to the enormous force of something rather large and moderately heavy canon-balling into my stomach. Fortunately for the object in question a tiny excited voice cried out before I could react in anything more than a strangled grunt.

"Blaise, story day, up, up, story day!" the giggling laughter of my baby sister echoed around my bedroom.

"Abigail," I groaned, trying in vain to move her from my aching abdomen. "It's not time yet."

To this the only reply was "story day!" my enthusiasm was not helped by the fact that my cat, Bandit, chose that exact moment to pounce on my feet, claws extended and feline fangs sinking through the covers to bite onto my big toe. My cry of pain was overpowered by an equally loud shriek of laughter. "'an'it come story day too!" Her blue eyes sparked with laughter set off by the relatively dark nature of the rest of her complexion.

Story day was what Abby called the weekly outings to the Muggle library that Janice took her on. Once in the small building she would listen to the librarian read a short tale while sitting on piles of pillows joined by other small children, and when the story was finished she would pick out as many books as she could convince us to bring home. None of them ever had the same topic and I'm convinced that Abby chose her books based solely on the vibrancy of the illustrations. The more vivid the colors the better and the longer she begged to take "dis one!"

As much as I enjoyed reading to her, this morning I wished more than anything that the practice had never been started. Janice had come down with the flu the night before and rather than see Abby miss her promised trip into the Muggle world (though I was an infrequent visitor myself,) I had agreed to take her, believing that a single trip to and from a library could not cause much harm, nor be too difficult for me to manage without causing much notice. However judging by the morning light that peeked around the edge of my curtains I knew it was still much too early for me to begin the promised venture into town.

"What time is it?" I groaned and Abby wiggled her way off of my stomach so that I could turn and view the clock that sat on my bedside table. "Abby, its six o'clock. Your story time doesn't start until ten."

"No story day?" she looked so sad with her little lip pushed as far forwards into a pout as she could manage that I saw nothing for it and swung my feet out of bed.

"Breakfast first, and then we have to dress up like Muggles." Surly there must be some way to stretch those two actives for four hours. And indeed I ordered a breakfast so complicated from Bert that we lost at least one hour to its preparation. Another thirty minutes went to the hitching of a small child's carriage to the back of the old bicycle that sat in the car barn. Magic being forbidden with in the sight of Muggles and Abigail being too small to ride a horse there was no other option. If we had been visiting other wizards I would have ventured to flew to the wizarding inn of the town square, but as the flew network always left telltale signs of ash, and as I had no wish to explain what a little girl not quite two would be doing near a fire place, that option was out as well. Which is why I was messing around with a Muggle bicycle.

I managed to waste another large chunk of time searching for suitable Muggle clothing to wear.

Unfortunately my usual wardrobe was as unsuited to Muggle outings as it had been the year before when we had needed clothing for the short journey to the school train. Abigail had a single dress she wore for library day, a simple blue cotton frock with yellow sunflowers patterned so they seemed to grow up the skirt, I however had no such article, and unfortunately I had out grown the plain clothing that had been used the year before. Though Mother supposed my black school uniform trousers might pass in a pinch. That still left the fact that no single shirt I owned could pass for any length of time. They were either obviously tailor made especially for me, contained enchanted logos, or composed of fabric no reasonable Muggle boy would wear.

It was Abigail, remarkably enough, who solved that problem. Some fifteen minutes before we were to leave she appeared once again in my room this time dragging a long sleeved black and white striped shirt behind her. "Pay dess up, Blaise!" she said when I took the shirt from her. It was plain, made of cotton, and it fit.

Shortly after Abby was settled into the passenger wagon and I was riding both of us down the drive on the Muggle bicycle. Soon enough we were turning onto the country lane that lead from our house into the Muggle village virtually a straight shot to our destination.

Sometime later, hot and dusty from the trip I parked the bicycle in front of the library. I got a few odd looks as I unbuckled Abby and took her into the children's room, but I attributed it to Janice's absence. We settled down on some pillows near the front of the story semicircle, and the elderly librarian took her seat, an old stool, in front of the audience. To my surprise it was the very woman who had led me to the book on Nickolas Flamel the year before. Same cat's eye spectacle, same flyaway hair, and same loafers. Only the dress had changed. Today it was green. Soon enough she was reading a story about a mouse who wanted to hide a giant strawberry from a bear, and at the end all the children got a berry of their own to take home, or in Abby's case eat on the spot.

Fifteen minutes later we were leaving, Abby still chatting about the bear and the berry as she held onto my hand. My other arm was around the stack of books she had chosen and I was attempting to rebalance them without letting go of Abby's hand, when I walked headlong into someone and dropped the entire pile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: The Firebrand Chronicles Book Two: After Dark

**Summary:** No one knew what awaited them upon returning to Hogwarts that year. No one expected a monster to attack the students, and certainly no one expected anyone to assume that Harry Potter was the party responsible. Blaise Zabini certainly didn't. This is his story. Book Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter any of its characters or events. They belong to J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Firebrand Chronicles**

**Book Two: After Dark**

**Chapter II**

I bent over to pick up the dropped books Abby's hand still held firmly in my own, only to nearly bump heads with the person I had just knocked into. When we both straightened I found myself face to face with a dark haired youth of about sixteen whose name I knew to be Peter. Peter, fortunately for me was the young man Charles had hired to help him with the stables. Peter, unfortunately, was also pure Muggle. Behind him stood another person who looked nearly as started as the two of us, a girl near Peter's age with curly red hair, a freckled nose, and sky blue eyes.

"Ah, Mr. Zabini, I'm sorry." Peter began to apologize.

"No, it was my fault," I muttered, not quite sure how to proceed. Though he was employed part time by the family I had never before had an actual conversation with the youth, and I was unsure how much he knew, or how much I might carelessly give away. Peter seemed nice enough though. He took one look at Abby who had taken hold tightly of my leg, hindering my ability to pick up the dropped books, and finished the task for me.

"Really, Mr. Zabini, I am sorry." He handed the stack over to me and left his hand extended so I shook it awkwardly, letting go of Abby's hand just long enough to do so.

"Call me Blaise, and this is Abigail." I said though I knew he knew our names already. Abby's grip on my leg only tightened.

The curly red haired girl behind Peter was giving me odd looks. "Why are you dressed as a mime?" She suddenly blurted. I felt my cheeks heat even though I no idea what a mime was and no idea how they fit into the conversation. I simply knew from the comment that something was wrong with the clothing I was currently wearing.

"Abby . . ." I started, but she decided to put in her own two Knuts fortunately understanding exactly what was needed.

"I help."

Peter glared at his friend, which gave me just enough time to shift the books firmly into one arm, pick Abby up with the other and maneuver around the two Muggle towards my bike and Abby's carriage. "I'm sorry, but it's almost her nap time and we need to be going." I managed as I slid the books into the cargo pocket and bucked Abby into her seat. It was the truth, even though I was also trying to avoid any more awkward conversation. Abby fell asleep on the ride back.

That wasn't the end to the surprises for the day, though the next one was much better than a run in with a Muggle employee. My father's father, Grandfather Alexander, had arrived at the house some two minutes before me for a surprise visit, and Millard had gotten on the wrong side of him already, to my great pleasure. I could hear their voices echoing from the entrance hall even before I opened the front door and carried the still sleeping Abigail inside.

"I don't care what you're in the middle of, man! I want to see my grandchildren and I demand to see them now!"

"Grandfather," I slipped in quickly before things could get potentially dangerous. "We were at the library."

"Alexander?" my mother's voice preceded her down the main staircase. "I thought I heard your voice." She gave him a kiss on each cheek before tuning and taking a still sleeping Abby from me. "I'd better get her upstairs and in bed."

"I apologies for inviting myself over, Vitoria."

"Nonsense," she called back over her shoulder, "as steward of the estate, not to mention family, you are, of course, welcome at any time."

"We're only surprised you're not here more often." I added receiving a poorly veiled glare from my stepfather.

"You, young man, are going to spend the day with this old one," Grandfather declared clapping an arm across my shoulders.

"Yes Sir!" I grinned with the reply.

Grandfather Alexander dragged me upstairs into the guestroom where Bert had already put away all of his belongings. "First thing first, we need to get you some decent Muggle clothing. Really paint you face white with that outfit and you'd be the perfect mime."

"Mime?" I ventured this being the second time I had heard that word today.

"Muggle performers, don't speak, and the dress like, well like you at the moment." I suddenly understood the situation. "Anyway, here you go." He handed me a brown paper package he had finally found in one of his drawers. "Picked that up in Ireland. Thought you might appreciate it. It's Muggle style so it should do the trick." I pulled out a green t-shirt with the words "Got Game?' stamped in white across the front over the golden yellow back to back 'K' emblem of my favorite Irish Quidditch team. Below the shirt seemed to be a pair of pants constructed of the blue denim material that Muggles seemed to be so fond of.

"Well go on, get changed, I'm taking you out for lunch." As I left the room I heard him whisper, "He looks so much like his father did at that age," a comparison nobody had ever made to me before. I had no doubt that while I changed he would disappear into the downstairs office to have a chat with his son's portrait. Sure enough he palmed the spare key from Bert and when I was done I found him leaning back in the brown leather desk chair smiling sadly.

"Promise me one thing," he said a little later as we left the manor and walked towards the garage where grandfather got the keys to the Muggle station wagon from Charles. "When you get to your third year take Muggle studies. Really, the fact that anyone could let you out of the house dressed like a mime . . ." he shook his head with mock despair. "It'll help in the long run, I can guarantee you that."

He only proved his point further with his ability to drive the station wagon, only Janice and Charles had ever paid much attention to it, and I had always thought it was on the property only to keep up appearances for the Muggle neighbors. Though I did wonder if Grandfather hadn't used some magic, because rather than bumping down the road and lurching around curves the way it did when Janice drove us to town, the automobile moved along smoothly without even the slightest hint of trouble.

Soon enough we were seated on the back patio of a local Muggle café looking at the lunch menus and I found myself telling him about astronomy. "It's not that I don't like the class, though the Professor really does seem to hate me, but I can't seem to make myself stay awake."

"Have you tried coffee?" a new voice asked and the waitress appeared still tying on her apron. When she looked up, a slightly embarrassed look on her face, I realized she was also the same girl who had referred to me as a mime earlier that morning. "Hi, I'm Sandra, I'll be your waitress this morning, and I really wasn't eavesdropping I just overheard. When I have trouble in class I drink coffee, and I really didn't mean to make fun of you this morning . . ."

Grandfather threw back his head and laughed, "He really did look like a mime . . ." he roared.

I forced a smile. "Apology accepted."

"Coffee sounds wonderful young lady," Grandfather managed when he had collected himself, "and the number four special as well."

"Cream or sugar?"

"Both. Blaise, you wanted the BLT?"

"And an orange soda."

"Ok coffee, orange soda, BLT, and the Turkey club. I'll be back with your drinks in a moment and your meals will be out shortly."

Grandfather let me taste the coffee when it came and compared to Mother's tonic, which I had been drinking the year before, it was like heaven. "Best part of it," Grandfather stated when I handed the mug back to him, "sugar doesn't ruin the effect."

Grandfather decided to extend his visit for the whole rest of the summer; Mother was pleased as long as he avoided trying to talk business with her, which included accounting. Apparently Grandfather's success with the Quality Quill Company had gotten into his head a bit and he was a little over eager to share what he had done. Abby was thrilled because 'Papa' read her all the stories she wanted, and I was thrilled and only partly, because his presence meant Millard was on his very best behavior. Veiled threats were almost non-existent between us when Grandfather was around, if only because there was a certain thing we both feared the old man would discover. Myself more for the repercussions on the family than anything else.

In any case, towards the end of summer Millard left for yet another business conference leaving us to our own, happy, selves.

Soon after Millard left, Grandfather had me in the upstairs hall where the family portraits hung quizzing me on who was who, "It's me left to teach you, your mother has her own family. Now this is your great Uncle Benjamin." He laughed, "He used to have this mirror that showed your inner most heart's desire. When your grandmother and I were dating I looked into it and saw her in a wedding dress. Turned around and proposed on the spot . . . pity he had to hide it when the war started. No one's quite sure where it ended up. And this is your cozen Gwendolyn. fantastic Quidditch player. Used to hold the record for . . ." and as he talked the portraits would smile and wave, sometime adding in two cents of their own.

About three weeks into August we were scheduled to head into Diagon Alley for my school supplies. The trip had originally been scheduled for Wednesday, but was pushed to Thursday when Grandfather learned that Gilderoy Lockhart was going to be at Flourish and Blotts.

"Insufferable young man, I don't want you anywhere near him Blaise." Harry Potter, a Gryffindor student in my year, famous for something he could've had no control over (defeat of you-know-who as a child) had no such reservation. The next morning he was on the front cover of the Daily Prophet right next to the famous author. If I hadn't known how Potter had courted the fame the previous year I'd have believed that Lockhart's photographic self was holding him in the photo. Unfortunately for Grandfather's previous declaration against the man the attached article announce Lockhart's appointment to Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

"So much for staying away from him." I muttered handing the paper over.

"Idiotic boy," I assumed he meant Lockhart, "you know he came poking around my office some time ago looking for a custom quill, I keep telling people I don't do custom quills. Not unless they serve a particular purpose. Untamperable for courtroom proceedings, or self-writing for Elinore Quimby who lost her hand saving that kid from a manticor. Those are worthy purposes. But I am not going to make a giant mountain roc quill for book signings, it's absurd. Nothing more than a lavish display of wealth. No, you don't see us parading around in garish silk robes just because we can!"

Grandfather very nearly kept up the lecture all the way to Diagon Alley. Not until I ventured to change the subject to the making of Quick Quotas Quills did he calm down. "You know I actually had to invent my own set of charms for that. I knew what I wanted, the how took some doing. Half the magic is concentration. Interpretation comes with the incantation. I had to find the words to say exactly what I wanted to happen, no more, no less, in the shortest most precise way. I hear you're quite good at charms yourself, take after your old man I'll bet. Tell you what next year send me the dates of the Hogsmead weekends and I'll come visit and teach you what I can. You should be able to handle the charms by then."

We got all my supplies easily though Grandfather was not happy when I had to buy a complete set of Lockhart's books.

"Just like the fool," he grumbled crushing the supply list in his hand. But as it was on the list there was no getting around it.

All too soon the summer was at and end and Grandfather was escorting me to platform 9 3/4. I was of course wearing my Quidditch shirt which got some very approving nods from some of my fellow students.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: The Firebrand Chronicles Book Two: After Dark

**Summary:** No one knew what awaited them upon returning to Hogwarts that year. No one expected a monster to attack the students, and certainly no one expected anyone to assume that Harry Potter was the party responsible. Blaise Zabini certainly didn't. This is his story. Book Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter any of its characters or events. They belong to J.K. Rowling

**A.N.: **Thank you to Gwenlynn for the review, and I also hope it won't take me another five years to write this - maybe if I do one for every Harry Potter book, but After Dark is technically completed :)

* * *

**Firebrand Chronicles**

**Book Two: After Dark**

**Chapter III**

The train ride was rather dull and uneventful with the possible exception of the Gryffindor prefect Percy Weasley running around like a headless rooster searching for his youngest brother and Potter.

It didn't surprise me at all that they would hide from him, but then Granger was searching for them as well, and I had to wonder what they were up to that would exclude her from the activity. It did even occur to me that they weren't on the train as all; rather I assumed they were helping Weasley's twin brothers with some hair-braided scheme that Granger wouldn't approve of. But there was no sign of the black haired, bespectacled, scared face, or of the youngest Weasley boy's telltale red hair anywhere obvious that I could see, and I wasn't about to waste my time helping a pushy know-it-all like Granger look. No, I much preferred to spend my time with my own friends who I easily found among the other passengers.

Tracey Davis was a dark haired witch with an olive complexion and bright eyes. She had a quick wit and had saved my hide in astronomy class on more the one occasion. Theodore Nott, or Theo as most people called him, is quite possibly the greatest friend I have ever had. Quite tall and lanky he has a decidedly rabbit-like look about his face, but with his easy manners and giant smile nobody ever seemed to mind. Theo's constant stream of jokes and pranks kept everybody around him amused though he's quite capable of being serious when necessary. We easily found an empty compartment, stowed our belongings, and were just getting settled in when to our surprise we were joined by Lisa Turpin from Ravenclaw. She was a pleasant girl and fully welcome, but we knew she had better friends then us and so her presence had been unanticipated. However, her company was very quickly accounted for when she explained that she had barely managed to make the train in the first place, and she preferred our company to that of Pansy and Millicent Bulstrode who currently occupied the only other compartment containing a free seat, not occupied by the first years. There was another down the other end of the train, but that unfortunately housed the Weasley twins to whom any student under the age of thirteen, and some older, were considered an immediate target. She smiled and pulled her brown hair into a ponytail as she explained herself in a very rational and logical, if bookish, manner. Then there was the added bonus of her love of Bandit who spent the majority of the trip in her lap.

Percy Weasley poked his head into our compartment two or three times during the voyage, still looking for our missing classmates, and Granger visited for about five minute with Lisa, talking so fast that no one had a chance to get a word in edgewise to tell her that no, we did not know where her missing friends were and neither did we care. The train made it to the school and neither of them were found. Draco still burning from the dragon incident from the year before was as antsy as the others. As he proved when I ran into him in the corridor while I was looking for a male only occupied compartment in which to change. Theo and I joined him for the rest of the ride which lasted all of five minutes.

"What could they be up to."

"Forget it," I answered as we all climbed down to the Hogsmeade platform. "We'll know soon enough without getting ourselves into trouble." He only frowned at me and muttered a comment about my lack of ambition, which I pretended not to hear. I knew he thought he was insulting me, but what is ambition without proper time management skills?

I knew better than to expect another boat ride to the castle this trip, a tradition for Hogwarts first years, but what I was not expecting were the thestrals. Theo and I had intentionally let Draco get ahead of us so we could avoid any further conversations about Potter and we were instead following Tracey and Lisa, who were discussing some article they had both read on enchanted hair clips, away from the platform and towards a line of waiting carriages.

"Horseless carriages!" Tracey's voice carried from her location ahead of us, "what fun?"

Horseless? Theo and I both seemed to freeze in shock sharing an uneasy glance. Each knowing the other could see the creatures. I watched as his eyes widened in understanding and he muttered so low that I barely heard the single word. One little word that sent chills down my spine.

"Thestrals."

I nodded that was the only thing the black skeletal creatures in the harness could be. An animal visible only to one who had witnessed death. Witnessed death, I knew why I could see them. Damian's fall. But as for Theo, well I was too polite to ask. If he wanted to tell me he would. Just as, if I wanted to, I would tell him. I didn't want to. Damian, well Damian had been my favorite among my stepfathers. The memory f his death was just too painful, and if the wrong person heard . . .

"Do me a favor." I hissed, "There're enough rumors floating around about my family already, don't mention I can see them."

"If you do the same thing for me!" he agreed without a moment's hesitation.

We spat on our palms and shook to seal the mutual promise and then forcing smiles made our way to the buggy and climbed in after the girls.

"What was that all about?" Lisa asked the moment we were seated.

"What was what?" Theo feigned innocence.

"That whole shaking hands thing like you made a pact or something- "

"Probably some prank Theo's planning to pull or something," Tracey sighed leaning back in her seat, "whatever it is, it's safer not to know." Fortunately for us Lisa listened to her.

The carriages soon pulled up one by one to the front steps of the castle, where we all disembarked and made our way through the entrance hall to the Great Hall and found seats at the house tables.

"I wonder what the song will be this year?" a fourth year girl chirped as she took a seat with her friends across from me and Theo at the Slytherin table. "It may be only a hat, but it sure knows how to write poetry."

"You mean it sings a different song every year?" I asked stupidly. Logically it made sense, but I had never before wasted my time thinking about the hat.

"Of course it does," she answered sticking her nose in the air, "what else has it to do?" as she spoke the first years filed into the room forming a line at the front, the old rickety hat was produced and placed on a stool and a rip near the brim that served as a mouth opened as the hat began to sing:

I may not be that beautiful,  
I may have gained no fame.  
Yet, I assure you one and all,  
I do have one fine brain.

T'was given me by Gryffindor  
who swept me off his brow,  
to sort you was the chosen goal  
that's what will happen now.

Don't be afraid to put me on.  
I'll look inside your head.  
A little bit of rummaging,  
and to your house you're lead

I might place you in Gryffindor,  
where they are brave and true.  
Full of daring, nerve, and courage,  
that lot fears nothing new.

Or perhaps in wise Ravenclaw,  
where you will test your brain.  
Where they have quick wit and learning,  
and knowledge is their gain.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
where friendship has strong ties.  
I assure you that in that house  
loyalty never dies.

And don't forget strong Slytherin,  
ambition among friends  
was never wasted in that house,  
they will not fail their ends.

Try me on, I'll look in your head,  
and then unblock your mind.  
I'll choose the perfect house for you  
and place you with your kind.

The entire hall applauded and the sorting began, though the Slytherin table turned towards whispered conversations about the where-a-bouts of Professor Snape. We had all noticed that he was missing as well.

"I bet he's gone to find Potter and Weasley," Draco hissed from several seats away, "they weren't on the train after all."

"Ohh, won't they be in trouble!" Pansy squealed, dissolving into a rather high pitched giggle that led to Tracey covering her ears.

We found out soon enough. The meal had barely started when he strode in to the hall and up to the head table where he spoke quietly to the headmaster. Unfortunately the entire hall hushed in order to hear and the words, "flying car," and, "whopping willow," echoed. By the end of the feast there wasn't a single person present who hadn't heard what had happened, and Dumbledore fortunately, or unfortunately for Potter and Weasley, confirmed the rumors when the meal was done.

"May I have your attention please." He shouted over the din, and the hall for the second time that night was completely quiet. "I have some announcements to make before we head off to bed. First Gilderoy Lockhart has kindly agreed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts this year." The man in question rose and waved and quite few girls sighed, several swooned, Pansy among them. Theo shot me a rather horrified look.

"Second, our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that no magic is to be used in the corridors, and all frisbees, flying disks, and so forth are only to be used outside. Also first years are to note that the dark forest is forbidden to all.

"Finally, as you may have all heard earlier this night, a car was in fact flown into the whopping willow. Now for obvious reasons the tree is extremely unhappy and I must advise you all to stay away from it. I would not want to find that anybody has lost and eye or worse." I had never before heard Dumbledore sound this serious or severely disappointed before.

Potter, however, had only succeeded in adding to his fame and Weasley no doubt would be basking in the limelight as well. Probably what they had both wanted. I had no doubt that those two were the culprits because, as far as I knew, every other student had been accounted for.

"Now," Dumbledore continued in a much more cheerful voice, "as well have all stuffed ourselves it is time to head for bed." It was with a certain degree of happy pandemonium that the students filed out of the hall that night, conversation centered around, not the new DADA Professor, but the sheer guts it must take to fly a car into Hogwarts.

As I lay under the covers that night I could only wonder what grandfather would say if I had tried to fly our car onto the grounds. I'd probably very quickly find myself without an inheritance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: The Firebrand Chronicles Book Two: After Dark

**Summary:** No one knew what awaited them upon returning to Hogwarts that year. No one expected a monster to attack the students, and certainly no one expected anyone to assume that Harry Potter was the party responsible. Blaise Zabini certainly didn't. This is his story. Book Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter any of its characters or events. They belong to J.K. Rowling

**A.N.:**Thank you to pkp033 for the review.

* * *

**Firebrand Chronicles**

**Book Two: After Dark**

**Chapter IV**

Breakfast the next morning was interrupted by a howler. A roaring woman's voice filled the room and it was so loud that I hand to lift my plate and goblet from the table top as it shook to prevent their contents from spilling into my lap. It was immediately obvious that Mrs. Weasley was not happy with her child.

"YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED!" seemed to reverberate off the walls despite that the woman's voice was still screaming. I could see various students around the hall hands acting as earmuffs against the din.

I looked over at Draco and Pansy both of whom were smothering their laughter when silence finally fell a few minutes later leaving a ringing behind in our ears. I put my food back on the table and continued my meal as though nothing had happened. Talk picked up around the room as most other people did the same, though from several conversations I could hear a good half of them were talking about the howler themselves meaning the incident would not soon be forgotten.

Our first class the following day was transfiguration where we had to turn beetles into coat buttons and I was extremely pleased when I finally managed to imprint the pattern onto my beetle's shell. It was the furthest I had ever gotten during a first lesson on any transfiguration spell and even Professor McGonagall seemed a bit impressed with me though a full half of the class had managed the full transformation of their beetle by the time the bell rang. At the very least I wasn't scolded for improper incantation, not holding my wand properly, or any other of my usual mistakes.

Herbology followed in which Professor Sprout had us finish repotting mandrakes. I earned ten points for knowing what they were and Draco nearly lost his finger when he stuck it intentionally in the young plants mouth near the end of class.

"How dare you!" Professor Sprout roared at him, "I have never seen such irresponsible behavior - you are supposed to be caring for them not antagonizing them! The willows in a sling as it is - I do not need my green house full of tantrum throwing mandrakes" she took a deep breath in an attempt to cool the anger that was preventing her from speaking properly. ". . . five points!"

"I was just having a bit of fun" he grumbled once we were out of her hearing as we headed for lunch.

"Great fun," Theo mumbled so only I could hear, "I've always wanted to get _my_ finger bitten off by a mandrake!" Tracy sniggered as she walked up behind us and looped her arms through both of our own so that the three of us were linked in a chain.

"I don't know," she grinned. "The loss of a finger might do him some good. At least he might learn some common sense." She continued to grin widely at us obviously enjoying her first day back. "At the very least it at least promises to be an interesting year!"

The meal was followed by History of Magic which was just as boring as ever though Draco and I did have a bit of an interesting side conversation as Professor Binns droned on and on about the wizards of ancient Greece.

"I caught Potter giving out signed photos earlier," he hissed from his seat at the desk behind me his bitten finger wrapped in a bit of bandage. Obviously he thought this bit of information was supposed to make up for his loosing half the points I had earned at the beginning of Herbology. Wondering why I should care I never-the-less decided to play along.

"Really?" I whispered trying not to be too obvious about leaning back in my chair in order to hear him better. Not that Professor Binns was paying me enough attention to notice anyway. "That's going a bit far don't you think?"

"Agreed. That Creevey mudblood was snapping photos with his little mudblood camera and Potter agreed to sign it."

"How did a _Muggleborn_ find out enough about him to want a photo anyway." I asked refraining from pointing out that one, I had no idea who he was talking about, and two, that though the kid was muggleborn Draco had bothered to find out both the kid's lineage and name.

"He's probably been bragging the Gryffindor common room, and with the car incident and all the whole school has been discussing him as usual," Draco sneered.

"Great." I grumbled. "He's had enough press as it is. Last year the Daily Prophet was all over the return of 'the boy who lived,' and a few weeks ago it was all 'Lockhart and Potter golden team' what's next!"

"Nothing" Draco hushed me quickly before I could really get going. "I've got a plan, I just need to make Seeker that's all. Higgs graduated so the spots open."

"Long as I don't actually have to fly, let me know if you need help."

"Boys," Professor Binn's voice finally cut through our conversation, "is there something you would like to share?"

"No, sir," Draco answered promptly and I winced as the smugness in his tone though the Professor apparently didn't notice.

"Then perhaps you can tell me who fist invented the basilisk?" even his scolding tone was the same monotonous drone.

"That would be Herpo the fowl sir." I answered glad I had read ahead in the text book.

"Good, Now in ancient Greece Herpo the fowl was a . . ."

We didn't have defense against the dark arts until the next day but by then most of us had figured out that these lessons were going to be something of a joke. At least those of us who weren't fawning over him. Pansy and Tracey both seemed to be drooling over their class schedules. Theo took one look at the pair of them and mouthed at m, "we have to do something." I could only shrug. If the man was even half the fool Grandfather had made him out to be they'd figure it out soon enough. Or so I hoped. Fortunately it was the Gryffindor class that bore the brunt of his idiocy. The man, apparently, had no idea how to even handle Cornish pixies.

The story of the pixies had spread from the Gryffindor class all over the school and as much as I would have enjoyed seeing idiot Longbottom being hung from a chandelier I was a bit worried about what the Professor might decide to do next. Lockhart, fortunately, made other plans, the pixies having taught him a much deserved lesson. At least in my opinion.

"I'm sure he knows what he's doing. Something must have gone wrong!" Pansy scolded Theo the morning before we were to have class.

"I'm sure it was as simple as his having grabbed the wrong end of his wand." Theo managed with a perfectly straight face.

"Be polite. He's a professor," Tracey scolded as she walked past slapping Theo upside the head.

During class Lockhart gave us thirty minutes to take a quiz on what we already knew and when I saw my exam paper I suddenly knew why Grandfather disliked him. The questions were absolute nonsense and by number twenty five "what would Gilderoy Lockhart's ideal vacation be?" I was thoroughly fed up. If I was ever going to intentionally fail a class it would be this one. I started make up answers, the more sarcastic I could phrase them the better.

Question twenty seven, what does Gilderoy Lockhart like to eat for breakfast? received an answer of chocolate pudding, and thirty two, what member of the animal kingdom is Gilderoy Lockhart most like? was answered an ostrich with its head in the ground. Surprisingly chocolate pudding turned out to be correct.

"Ninety-eight percent Miss Parkinson very well done!" he said rifling through our papers when the test was over. "Though Mr. Zabini needs to actually open my books. Only one? I was under the impression that you were one of the star pupils." He put the stack of tests down and picked up a book. "Now with the rest of class we are going to discuss the first book on your reading list, Year with the Yeti. Isn't that a wonderful picture on the cover?" the fuchsia robed photographed Lockhart winked at the class. I groaned and let my head hit the desk.

My promise to Draco was not forgotten. I met him on the Quidditch pitch every night that week using the one charm I knew that allowed me to keep my feet on through ground and still keep things moving high enough and fast enough for him to chase. It was something I had discovered the previous year, in a book lent to me by Professor Flitwick, that I used primarily to make Bandit's toy ball zoom around the common room. When I shared the idea, Draco was a bit disbelieving at first. But after chasing Bandit's ball around the field and two thirds of his catches being successful the first night, he was grinning ear to ear.

"You know, Draco" Pansy giggled as she watched from the stands, "you have Seeker in the bag."

Tryouts being Friday afternoon, and evenings after dinner being the only time the pitch was free for us to practice, Draco kept me out late Thursday night. Almost too late because an hour after the others would have gone to bed Professor Snape came out to find us.

"What are you two doing?" he demanded, though there was a smile quirking at the edge of his lips as if he already knew the answer.

I turned around in surprise dropping my wand to my side as I did so. Unfortunately the ball was following the path my wand's tip created for it. Draco was forced into a steep dive if he wanted to catch it. Seeing him actually attempt the dive out of the corner of my eye, I remembered just in time to level out the ball's flight path and Draco did manage to catch it falling off his broom at Professor Snape's feet.

"Sorry Professor," he said scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off. "Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow and Zabini was doing me a favor." He tossed me Bandit's ball which I stowed safely away in my pocket.

"I see," Professor Snape stated, though the slight smile was still there. "Back to the common room, boys, its past curfew."

Friday brought nothing but anxiety for Draco who had so much trouble concentrating that he became fidgety and refused to sit still. Casting a tickling charm on him during Flitwick's lessons proved all but impossible because he wouldn't stay in one place long enough for the spell to hit him.

Directly after lessons Draco ran out to the pitch to get ready, but planning on being only a spectator I knew I had some time. Usually I took a side passage to avoid Peeves the poltergeist who liked to haut the main corridors and catch students unaware. But with so much happening that afternoon I completely forgot about the menace. Not exactly an easy thing to do.

Before I knew it he had stolen my book bag and was hovering near the ceiling waving it around in an attempt to box my ears.

"Give it back!" I growled at him thinking wildly on every possible way I knew to liberate my belongings.

"Does the ikle second year want his bag," Peeves cackled evilly, "then the inkle second year has to catch his bag first!"

Thinking quickly I took Bandit's ball (and Draco's practice snitch) out of my pocket. "Asendere!" the ball zoomed into the air following my wand tip and I began attempting to use it to knock my things out of Peeves's hands. Unfortunately he was very good at dodging.

"Missed me missed me and you'll never get me!" he chanted taking out one of my books and chucking it at my head.

"What do you mean we don't have a Snitch?" Professor Snape's cold voice came floating down the hall as I aimed another blow at Peeves and simultaneously dodged another thrown school book. I jumped, magic was forbidden in the corridors. Did I have time . . .

"Severus I'm sorry but the Hufflepuff team had practice earlier and I'm afraid they lost it. I can't let you use one of our game snitches, they've never been caught, and I'm afraid the spare was pilfered sometime Monday afternoon." And with those words Madam Hooch preceded my head of house around the corner before I could undo my charm.

"Caught doing magic you are!" Peeves laughed.

"Now if you can wait I can procure a new one by Tuesday" Hooch continued, "Mr. Zabini, what are you doing?"

"Ikle secondi can't make me give back his bag!" Peeves answered for me.

"Drop it!" Snape snapped. Peeves did, on my head.

"Ouch," I grumbled trying to rub my head, undo my charm work, and pick up my various scattered items all at the same time.

"Hooch, I think I've found my solution." My head of house stated summoning several of my text books from down the hall where they had gone after Peeves had chucked them at me.

Madam Hooch clapped me on the shoulder as she walked by, off to be about her own business. Professor Snape smiled. I wasn't too sure I liked that smile.

"Change into something comfortable Mr. Zabini, that charm of yours is going to provide a replacement Snitch for our Quidditch team!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: The Firebrand Chronicles Book Two: After Dark

**Summary:** No one knew what awaited them upon returning to Hogwarts that year. No one expected a monster to attack the students, and certainly no one expected anyone to assume that Harry Potter was the party responsible. Blaise Zabini certainly didn't. This is his story. Book Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter any of its characters or events. They belong to J.K. Rowling

* * *

**Firebrand Chronicles**

**Book Two: After Dark**

**Chapter V**

Fifteen minutes later I was dressed in my Muggle attire and standing in the center of the Quidditch Pitch, while the Slytherin team captain Marcus Flint stood by and watched as professor Snape gave me some last minute instructions.

"Add rapidi to the incantation, Mr. Zabini. That should speed things up a bit." He said finishing his instructions.

"You're sure he can mimic the snitch, Professor?" Flint asked for the seventh time.

"It should work well enough."

"Well, we'll start with basic flight patterns" Flint muttered running a hand through his short hair, "though I want you ready to go when I give the signal."

Basic flight patterns turned out to be a very good idea. They narrowed the contestants down to a round dozen when it quickly became apparent that the rest couldn't stay on their brooms..

"Now we're going to try catching the snitch," Flint called out to the participants some fifteen minutes later. "Or rather the practice ball Zabini will be controlling. You'll each get three tries and up to twenty minutes. Whoever catches the most the fastest will be our new Seeker. Zabini, if you're ready we'll start."

I grabbed the ball from my pocket, and threw it as high as I could before shouting "Asendere Rapidi" a streak of white light shot from my wand to hit the ball at the peak of its accent and immediately it began to respond to my commands at a speed, if not that of the Snitch was still high enough that it made it incredibly difficult for the human eye to follow. Of course a good snitch could disappear entirely.

It was hard work trying to keep that ball from the hands of my housemates, all the bending and twisting required was enough of a work out on its own, but the activity lasted three and a half hours and well before the end of it I was more than grateful for the hours upon hours of training Dr. Gertz had drilled into me. Without those lessons I would have been well beyond my capabilities. If Professor Snape had known of my training beforehand I have no clue, I knew only that he had confidence in my ability and I in no way wanted to let him down. By the end of it I was exhausted.

Of all the contestants Draco, as it turned out, was by far the best. He not only caught all three of his, but managed one in under five minutes. As everyone piled out of the stands to congratulate him I was allowed to rest. I brought the ball back to me, the last person had failed to catch it in the allotted time, and stuffed it back into my pocket before sinking back onto the grass, head doubled over my knees, panting and trying to catch my breath before I forced myself back to my feet to begin the stretching that would allow my body to cool down properly. I watched Draco in the limelight and smiled. He owed me now, and I would make sure he knew that.

Before long I sat down again, only this time I felt something lurch under me. I quickly reached down and pulled out a small fluttering golden ball. I couldn't help but break out in laughter, though tired as I was the sound came out half strangled.

"Are you alright, Mr. Zabini?" Professor Snape asked walking over to check on me, the only person who had even thought to do so.

"Exhausted, sir, but look" I held out the Snitch to him, "I just sat on it."

"Thank Merlin!" Flint yelled across the pitch when he realized what I had handed over, "now we can practice for real!" he walked across the grass to join us. "It would help if we could start tomorrow, but Gryffindor has the pitch booked."

"I'll write a note of permission," the Professor muttered, "Mr. Zabini," he grabbed me under the left arm and pulled me to my feet, "I suggest you eat a good dinner and go straight to bed. Sleep in tomorrow if you can. I better get this to Madam Hooch." And with that he marched back to the castle. Draco ran off to owl his father and I was left to follow the professor's advice which I did without fail.

The next morning was easily as chaotic As I blearily made my way to the breakfast table I heard all sorts of talk about the Slytherin's new brooms, but not until I found Pansy at the table did I know what all the talk was about. It turned out that earlier that morning a house elf had arrived in the common room with seven new brooms and a congratulatory note for Draco.

"Really Blaise, the common room was a riot. Seven new 2001s and you slept right through it."

To which I replied, "I performed an ascension charm for nearly three and a half hours last night. It's no wonder I slept through it." Pansy only shrugged.

"Isn't it just wonderful that Draco made Seeker?"

"Yeah, great" I answered making myself a sandwich of eggs, bacon and toast and heading out to the Quidditch pitch hoping to catch practice thinking it would be nice just to sit down and watch, but Professor Flitwick waylaid me in the entrance hall.

"I heard about your charm work yesterday, I'm sorry I missed seeing it . . . perhaps . . ."Though perhaps the oldest professor at Hogwarts Professor Flitwick was also widely considered to be one of the kindest. He desire to see his students succeed was genuine and his enthusiasm was catching.

"I'll stay late after next class." I promised feeling very pleased that someone at least recognized that I had done something. He nodded and motioned me onwards. Eating my breakfast I made my way to the pitch.

I arrive there to find the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams snarling at each other though the Slytherin team did seem to be suppressing laughter. "What did I miss?" I asked stuffing the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth. And then noting the one member of the Gryffindor team who was missing asked, "And where's Potter? Out taking pictures with Lockhart again?"

The Slytherin team roared with laughter, but Gryffindor chaser Angelina Johnson was not amused. "And what are you Zabini? Team mascot?"

"Aside from the fact that I wanted to remind Draco that he owes me for helping him practice, I heard someone was kind enough to re-outfit out team," I held my hands up defensively, "I wanted a look that's all."

"You mean bribe" Gryffindor's second chaser Katie Bell asked. I nearly chocked. After all my hard work the night before I did not appreciate the implication that Draco had bought his way in.

"It's like Zabini said," Flint growled obviously angry for a number of reasons, "it was a generous donation nothing more. Now if you excuse us we have a practice to run."

Eventually the Gryffindor team agreed to stick to half of the field so both teams could practice, though the Weasley twins did hit an abnormally large amount of bludgers at Draco as opposed to the rest of the Slytherin team. Apparently their brother's wand had backfired and they blamed Draco for the incident. Not that the Slytherin beaters minded at all. It gave them the ammunition required to mount their own attack at the opposite end of the field. As Potter never returned from taking Weasley to the hospital wing, the Gryffindor team only remain about a half hour, I didn't stay much longer needing to finish the homework I had set aside to help Draco practice, though usually I had a policy of finishing before the weekend.

The day being warm however, I decided to take my work outside on to the lawn after lunch Theo agreed that it was a good idea and followed. Unfortunately we had just passed the hut of the grounds keeper when a large dog apparently smelling the cat treats that I had hidden in my pocket for Bandit decided to search them out for himself. In an instant I found myself flat on my back with a paw on each shoulder as a drooling muzzle sniffed at my robe's chest pocket. Theo instantly grabbed the beast's collar and tried to pull him off to no avail.

"Here, fang, heal!" a large voice shouted as an equally large man hauled him off. "Name's Hagrid," the man said, "this here's fang. He wouldn't hurt a fly honest."

"He's certainly seemed friendly" Theo laughed a gleam in his eye I'd never seen before. "You're the ground keeper right? I'll be you get to take care of all sorts of interesting animals like thestrals, and bicorns and . . ." I felt a slight jolt of alarm at the mention of thestrals but Theo had hid the name in a string of others and I wondered if he even knew what he had said.

Hagrid seemed willing enough to answer. "Reckon Hogwarts has the only domesticated herd of thestrals . . ." well that answered that question, "and we have some bicorns but yeh want' ta stay away from them.

"Theo?" I asked suddenly realizing what the look I was seeing from him was, passion akin to my own for the sword, "you never mentioned how much you like magical creatures."

"Like them, awe Blaise, sometime you're gonna have to come to my place. We've got a herd of Algerian wingbacks, and I recon there's a griffin in the woods behind the house though Pa never lets me explore back there, ever since one attacked mum . . ." he looked suddenly sad for a moment and Hagrid gave him an odd look as if something had just been pieced together for him.

"We'll if yer wanten to learn about interesting creatures you should talk to 'fessor kettleburn about the class in third year, but a . . . theoretically speaking, I'm always willing to discuss dragons and such." Theo thanked him ecstatically though explained that at the moment we had homework to finish. He did promise to drop by when we were done though. Understanding completely the giant man waved us on and headed up to the castle the large dog on his heels. We headed on towards a grassy place near the shore of the lake where I plopped down on the ground and pulled the required martials out of my bag to start my Herbology essay.

The first Astronomy lesson of the year I had made the attempt to get through without the aid of stimulants. After a whole year of practice I had finally become comfortable enough with the astronomy tower that as long as I did not look down I felt perfectly safe and so when out of habit the others gave me the centermost spot to set up my telescope I immediately reverted to my second bad habit and began to dose off. I truly have no idea what it is, but there is something about gazing at the stars that puts me to sleep. After the third time Tracey poked me awake I resolved to see professor Snape about Grandfather's coffee idea. I was sure I could get a thermos full from the kitchens but I had no idea where they were located, and after the head of Slytherin's warning over the drought of wakefulness the previous year, which mother called tonic, I was certain he would help.

Saturday evening while the Slytherin Quidditch team still practiced and Theo sat on the lawn with the gamekeeper discussing the care of fire-crabs of all things, I made my way inside and down to the dungeons where fortunately I found Professor Snape in his office and willing to talk.

"I did ask you to find a better solution, Mr. Zabini, though this is not what I expected." He said when I had explained my request. "You will of course be held responsible for your coarse work regardless of how well this works and I expect you to use the information I'm about to give you responsibly."

"Of course sir."

That was how fifteen minutes later I found myself in the dungeons below the great hall reaching out to tickle a pear. It was ridiculous. Not the fact that a large painting of a fruit bowl guarded the kitchens, which made perfect sense, but that I had to tickle the pear. Tickle the pear I did and it giggled and turned into a large green door knob which I then turned and entered the room.

Pie pans, pots, stove, fireplace, extremely large pantry . . . I ticked them off mentally as I looked around though I didn't manage a very good look because no sooner than I had stepped into the room I was ushered into a ladder backed chair beside a small wood table which I was sure had just been set up.

"Has sir missed dinner?" a house elf dressed in a Hogwarts emblem embroidered tea towel bobbed before me. "We can make something, perhaps some tea or maybe pumpkin juice while you wait? The wait won't be long. . ." I motioned him to silence but he kept talking

"Beef or chicken?"

"No, no I . . ."

"Bread? We have cinnamon buns?"

"Really I . . ."

"Or ice-cream? Chocolate?"

"Wait a moment."

"I can make sir some cookies!"

"Will you PLEASE be quiet for a moment!" The house elf's ears drooped and he looked at the floor shuffling a bare foot along the flagstones. I suppressed a sigh, though having experience with Bert I knew how to deal with this.

"I apologies for shouting I should have more polite to such an enthusiastic and helpful elf like yourself," he looked up at me. "What's your name?" I asked gently.

"Hink, sir,"

"Hink, I am Blaise Zabini, It's very nice to meet you." His back straightened and he looked me in the eye. Though by this time I was bending double in the chair to be on eye level with him. "Listen, Hink, I have a very important request. I take astronomy on Thursdays and I need something to help keep me awake. If you or one of you colleagues could provide a large thermos full of coffee and have it ready for me by eleven thirty those nights I would be extremely grateful."

"Of course, sir," the elf was practically dancing with joy both at the request and the fact that I was no longer mad, "Hink will see to it personally, sir!"

October arrived in no time, my birthday passed and several colds went around. I caught all of them and had to be bullied to the hospital wing by Theo who claimed he wasn't going to help me in transfiguration unless I could stop sneezing. Tracey said the same about astronomy. Classes got progressively harder though I continued to breeze through charms with ease and Herbology consisted of caring for the mandrakes. Astronomy introduced a battle of wills with Professor Sinistra who declared it was a miracle I even showed up considering it took a thermos of coffee to keep me awake. She seemed offended by the very principle that anybody could consider her subject anything less than completely fascinating.

Potions got more complicated as well and when one class Professor Snape explained the more advanced ones we might see in the future I listened with interest. "Polyjuice," he said one afternoon," is probably one of the most complex you may ever come across. It allows the drinker to transform completely into another person, though I would advise you all not to go looking this up. Most Potent Potions is kept in the restricted section and if you truly want to learn more I would be more than happy to speak with you after class."

Overriding the class anxiety however was the much anticipated Halloween feast. It was rumored that Headmaster Dumbledore had booked a troop of dancing skeletons.


End file.
